A Hogwarts Reunion
by grumpypirate
Summary: Three years have come and gone since the war. Morgana Young must face her demons but can they lead her to a certain redheaded twin? George/OC


I don't own anything Harry Potter related.

First off thank you so much for reading this! I do truly appreciate it. I'm not sure how well written this sounds (I'm horrible at critiquiting my own work) and I wrote it merely an hour ago after rediscovering another story of mine. You can read that one here: .com/s/2968948/1/The_bReunion_b

I would really appreciate a comment on how this sounds. Other than that, thanks for reading!

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><p>Morgana Young glanced at the invitation in her hand and sighed dramatically. It had been three long years since the final battle at Hogwarts and Voldemort's demise. Three long years of trying to put the wizarding world back together. Three long years of mourning for the ones lost. Three long years of looking in the mirror at the terrible scar that ran from her right temple to her chin. It was a constant reminder of that horrible night. The night she lost not only her elder sister but the best friend she had ever had. No, she didn't want to go to this reunion…this memorial service…this dedication of the new hall built in Hogwarts to honor the fallen. The Victims. The Heroes.<p>

No, she didn't want to, but she felt she must. She had to. She had to, for Diana's sake. For Audrey's sake. No, she didn't want to go but she would. At least for an hour, two tops. Maybe she'd hide behind a tapestry the entire time. Yes, the one on the third floor with the knight in armor, no wait, that one was destroyed during the battle. Well, there went that idea. She'd just have to suffer through this ceremony and then go home.

Home; a place where no one stared at her scar or asked her what happened. Was it any of their concern? No of course it wasn't. It was absolutely none of their business that she had stepped in front of a knife in order to save her elder sister only to have her turn around and be hit by the killing curse. No, it wasn't any of their business. Besides, who carried a knife anyways? Idiotic death eaters carrying archaic weapons.

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><p>Morgana shifted from one foot to the other itching to escape. McGonagall had been rambling on for fifteen minutes about the loses faced three years ago. Does she think no one that everyone was a dunce and had forgotten three years ago? No one had forgotten it, no matter how hard they tried. Sure, some had been able to put it out of their minds, but no one had forgotten the sacrifices.<p>

Already standing in the back of the crowd, Morgana inched backwards until she was out of sight and down the hall she went. Having no exact location in mind she just wandered the halls until she found herself in the brand new memorial hall. Portraits of all those lost hung on both sides of the wall. It didn't take her long to find Diana and Audrey's portraits. Hanging right next to each other, Diana's dark hair and eyes stood in contrast to Audrey's blonde hair and blue eyes.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered to the two of them. "I should have protected you better. I promised you I would and I failed."

"Beating yourself up won't change anything." A male voice said from down the hall. "Trust me, I know."

Turning around Morgana came face to face with George Weasley. Now here was someone who understood the pain she was feeling.

"I know you." He said. "You're Morgana Young. You were a grade behind me."

"Yeah." Morgana replied. "And you're George Weasley. I hear your joke shop is doing well."

"I suppose it is." He said scratching his chin.

"How do you do it?" Morgana asked. "How do you go on every day knowing you couldn't save him?"

George glanced down the hall at the picture of his beloved twin and a sadness that penetrated deep into his eyes surfaced. "I think of what he would have wanted me to do." He replied after a moment's thought. "Fred would have hated for me to morn for him. If he knew that I had let the shop sit for a year he would have busted my head in. "

"You're braver than I. I feel like I'm barely functioning some days."

"If it helps I was like that too. It'll get better. That scar, you got that on that night didn't you?" George asked. "I remember passing. You were standing over someone. I remember the blood dripping down your face."

"Yes" she said absentmindedly fingering the scar. "I stepped in front of a knife that was meant for my sister. I…I pushed her back, and before I could turn around she was gone. A killing curse. I don't even know who did it."

"I have something back at my shop that could help with it." George said. "Fred and I invented it after we gave each other several dozen of them."

"I doubt it." Morgana replied. "I've been to every healer, used every scar remover imaginable, I even tried a muggle doctor once. They all said there was nothing to be done about it."

"At least give it a shot. What could it hurt? It would be better than sitting here. They said this would be a party to commemorate the dead and a chance for the survivors to move on. The mood out there is worse than Dumbledore's funeral. So what do you say?"

Morgana wanted to say no. She was tired of trying, tired of failing. But the look in his eyes told her something else. It showed hope. Hope. Something she hadn't felt in quite a long time. Something she needed, something she craved. "Okay." She whispered taking his hand.

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><p>Morgana fell out of the fireplace with a thud. She forgot how much she hated the floo network but since you couldn't apparate inside Hogwarts the only alternative was this. Weasley Wizard Wheezes was just as flamboyant and lively as it had been four years ago when she had first walked into it. In fact, there was even more to the store than back then. Glowing and flashing sign hung everywhere displaying different products.<p>

"Over here." George called from behind a large desk. "I've got the stuff in the back."

Getting up and dusting herself off, Morgana sidestepped several products that had made their way off the shelves and were attempting to escape the store.

"Aren't you worried about losing your products?" Morgana asked upon reaching George.

"Not really." He replied. "I've charmed the place so nothing can leave unless bought. They'll wander around until they realize they can't go anywhere and it's back to their shelves they'll go. Ahh here it is." George held up a small purple tube, pulled out from beneath a stack of boxes. "Hop on the cabinet it'll be easier for me to reach you."

The redhead before her must have been nearly six feet tall whereas Morgana stood only at five three. Sitting on the cabinet gave her the extra height needed for her to be nose to nose with him. Brushing her dark brown hair out of the way, George unscrewed the cap and lightly applied the contents of the tube to the right side of her face. Using smooth circular motions he gently rubbed the concoction into her skin, causing shivers to run up and down Morgana's spine.

"There now." George said tossing the empty tube into a nearby trash bin. "Now we just wait a few minutes to see what it does."

"Thank you George." Morgana whispered. "Even if it doesn't work, it's the thought that counts."

"You're welcome." He replied leaning beside against the counter so his arm sat dangerously close to her leg. "I remember seeing you once at Hogwarts putting a nasty hex on one Pansy Parkinson."

A ghost of a smile formed and Morgana found herself laughing for the first time in ages. "I remember that. She got on my nerves for the last time. I think that was the only time I ever had detention. Snape had me cleaning cauldrons for a few days. That was downright disgusting."

George chuckled and shook his head. "Only a few days? That's nothing. He had me and Fred cleaning them for weeks one time."

"Ouch" Morgana replied.

"You're telling me, my hands were numb for a month." George laughed. "Morgana?"

"Yes?"

"I know your scar bugs you and it's a constant reminder but you have to let go."

"I don't know how to." She replied trembling.

"Let me help then." George said moving closer to her.

Standing before her, he took her face in his hands, brushing his lips against her scar. Within moments neither remembered what had happened three years ago. Neither thought of anyone but one other and as for Morgana, as long as she was with George, she never thought about her scar again.


End file.
